Thursday, July 23, 2009

Today you're 25I made you something fineIt's in the palm of my new handIt's outYou're mostly what I think about andI'm proudI've been coasting on this singles routeBut I still hear your nameIn wedding bellsWill I look better or will I look the sameRotting in hellYou're the only proper noun I needHurryMy copper crown's gone greenPull me, pull me on out of this treeI'm stuck up a branch waitingClearly caught betweenTwo things unclear to me

Are you a female young messiahFor stowaways in dugoutsAnd are you what church folk meanBy the good newsPulling plastic bags off headsOr are you giving me a dirty lookIn the rear viewClicking the button on your u-ha penDon't pretend you didn't see meComing round the bendOn my fixie with the chopped corns turned inTrailing behind your biodiesel bends